


Wendigo, My Beloved

by DocMurphy, Entropyrose



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Bottom Will Graham, Canon-Typical Violence, Hannibal Lecter Loves Will Graham, Homophobic Language, Human/Monster Romance, Jack being Jack, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Minor Character Death, Monsters, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Supernatural Elements, Top Hannibal Lecter, Virginity, Wendigo Hannibal Lecter, Xenophilia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:21:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25382254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DocMurphy/pseuds/DocMurphy, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Entropyrose/pseuds/Entropyrose
Summary: A tropey supernatural adventure with mystery and humor that starts with smutt right off the back? Yes, please!Dr. Hannibal Lecter is asked to join Jack Crawford's Supernatural team to investigate a string of unsolved deaths in the area. He is instantly bewitched by a stunning young demon hunter named Will.Now, Hannibal is in love. Hannibal is also a Wendigo. Only complicating the matter is the fact that Will's virginity is directly tied to his success as a demon hunter. Do they have the patience and fortitude it takes to overcome insurmountable obstacles for thier love?
Relationships: Will Graham & Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 7
Kudos: 56





	1. The Page Of Swords

Will Graham, master demonologist, crack marksman and supernatural headhunter, is no-one to be trifled with. It is no wonder to him that Dr. Hannibal Lecter, the newest addition to Jack Crawford's rag-tag team of investigators, would feel safer at night with Will in the room. Upon his request, Will packs up his few belongings in a leather satchel older than the Declaration of Independence, tucks his army mat under his arm and heads three doors down from his own. He knocks stiffly, eyes shifting about as he is wont to do on occasion (for you never know what foul-intending entities are lurking about nearby), and offers a quick nod as the door opens. Cracking a slight smile, he thanks the man for inviting him (even though he is very much there for the Doctor's sense of security) and nudges his way through. 

He wastes no time in poking fun at the flighty surgeon, turning around with a slight eye roll. "Feel safer now? You know, I'm beginning to wonder if you think the boogeyman is really----" 

His voice is cut off suddenly as soft lips press against his and Will stifles a gasp. It would seem the doctor wastes no time, either. A skilled hand cups his face, playing with the chocolate fringe of Will's hair as he captures his bottom lip and gently worries at it. Will hopes to Odin that he doesn't notice the heat rising to his face. He lets slip a whimper ---- _ a whimper, Graham? What witchery is this? _ \---and finds himself chasing the taste, eyes sliding closed, his heavy black lashes resting on his cheeks. 

Hannibal is in heaven. Being asked to consult for the FBI’s paranormal unit was a great adventure; walking into the scene and finding Will there had been a gift from the angels; discovering the Will was not only beautiful but also a crime-fighting monster whisperer had elevated his existence to pure joy; Will agreeing to come to his room was, well, the universe could end now and he’d be fine with it. 

Hannibal is a master of seduction - you have to be when you routinely turn into a seven foot tall antlered monster in order to eat - and he knows exactly how to play tonight. Will is pure, monsters can tell, but has also been so kicked around by the world and the people in it that trust and affection are not going to come easy to him. Hannibal needs him in love before the big reveal, or else his happily ever after is going to be more of a happily never after, and where’s the fun in that? 

He keeps the kisses light and delicate, full of tenderness but also most definitely not leading anywhere, keeping his hands on Will’s upper arms are he walks them over to the bed. He lies down first, putting Will in a position of dominance, before pulling him down on top of him, cupping Will’s jaw and wrapping an arm around his back. Will brackets his head with his arms and dares to deepen the kiss, just a little. Hannibal allows it for a moment before pulling back.

“Did you say something about checking under the bed for the boogeyman?” He says, before pressing another kiss to Will’s nose.

Will has never been kissed so sweetly and precipitously in all his life. It leaves him in a daze, his blood heated to a gentle simmer, his mind humming constantly. He pulls away with a soft laugh, the dangerous monster-killing machine reduced to smouldering ash in mere seconds. He doesn't want it to stop. And this is when the question Hannibal asks him surfaces in his conscience. "Oh yes," he murmurs. "I will check but you should know there is no such thing as the bogeyman." 

With in an instant, Will has snapped back into paranormal-investigator mode. He rolls off the bed, a hand at his bouie-knife (because crazier things have happened), and flattens himself to the floor. "All clear," he announces after an unnecessary pause. "There's nothing but a few candy wrappers and a couple dozen dust bunnies that housekeeping forgot to…" His voice trails off as he rises to his knees. Hannibal has moved to the edge of the bed and Will comes up right smack between his legs. 

The heat returns to his face with a vengeance. He coughs into his arm--because that's a believable way to hide a blush, right?---and rises to stroll over to his kit. 

The Doctor watches in fascination as Will salts the doorway and windows, quirking an eyebrow. "What are you doing there?" 

"This will keep the majority of night-dwellers out," Will informs before moving on to a small vial of clear fluid which he dashes into the air (muttering a few phrases in ancient Gaelic). "Vampires and Succubi need to be invited in, but ghosts and other spiritual malcontents can waltz right in."

Hannibal gestures to the bottle as a little liquid hits the back of his hand. "And this?" 

"Holy water." 

"Fascinating." 

Next Will rolls out his mat alongside the bed, excuses himself to wash his face, and does 50 sit ups and push ups without once making eye contact. He guesses what Hannibal is wondering and says ,"This is my nightly ritual. Everything I do," he grunts between the last set, "Is to ensure my survival and the survival of those around me." At last, he flops onto his side, punching a rolled-up satchel into place and closing his eyes. "I have another 4 minutes before I enter REM, Doctor, if you'd like to converse." 

Hannibal realises that he’s been out-Hanniballed; normally he is the one disarming people with displays of meticulous put-togetherness, and is unnerved by the fact that he can’t think of a single thing to say, apart from ‘I’m a Wendigo, would you like to have sex?’ He goes for charm instead.

“I’m sure you could spare me more than four minutes,” he says in a honeyed tone. “It’s not as though you need your beauty sleep.” He beckons Will back onto the bed. They make out like teenagers, and Will is brave enough to squeeze Hannibal’s arse a couple of times, which is almost enough to make him come in his $100 underwear. After a while the kisses slow and Will becomes sleepy - Hannibal makes a show of falling asleep himself (he doesn’t sleep, never has and never will) until Will is snoring gently. Hannibal rolls onto his back and pulls Will to him; normally the thought of eight hours with no music, conversation or wine would send him into a panic, but as it is he is content to lie in the dark, listening to Will’s heartbeat, and imagining a future filled with his laughter, hunting under moonlight, and blood soaked kisses.

*****

The car journey to the next location is quiet; the air between Will and Hannibal is charged, and Jack keeps a quiet eye on them in the rear view mirror. Just once, Hannibal reaches out and strokes Will’s hand with his pinky finger, and Will grins against the window for the rest of the drive. The SUV pulls up on the edge of a small town bordered by dense pine forest. Jack gets out of the car, looking grim.

“Ok, listen up,” he says gruffly. “People have been disappearing from this town and turning up in bits. Local police have ruled out a human unsub, but we haven’t been able to tell from the photos what this thing is,  _ so,”  _ he takes out a plastic bag and a pair of tweezers. “I will need a hair sample from both of you, because we need to perform the Rite of Summoning to see if we can draw this thing out.”

This presents Hannibal with A Big Problem. If he takes part in the ritual, he will instantly revert to his Wendigo form, and Will will shoot him in the face, and not in the way Hannibal wants him to. Luckily Jack and Will both think he’s a human who has only just found out about demons. 

“I wasn’t aware I would be required to participate in magic,” he says, looking wary and put upon. Damn he’s good. “I don’t know how comfortable I am with this Jack. What am I to expect?”

“You can’t just spring ritual participation on people, Jack.” Will says defensively. “Just let him watch this time for Odin’s sake.”

Jack watches them for a moment, and then nods. He takes a strand of hair from Will, and then gives them both a radio handset.

“Spread out. We need a small clearing, ideally round, away from water and human dwellings. Radio the rest of us when you find something.” Without further ado he strides off into the woods, quickly disappearing from view. Hannibal is struck by an idea; as Will turns to say something to him he draws him into a searing kiss, undoing his belt quickly. Before Will can say ‘what the fuck’ Hannibal is on his knees. Will is half hard by the time he wraps his lips around his cock and he sucks hard, laying his tongue flat against the vein on the underside and encouraging him to full hardness. Will braces himself against the car and swears, pushing a hand into Hannibal’s hair. Hannibal goes to it like a champ, sucking Will down hard and fast until Will says ‘I’m gon…’ and comes down his throat. He swallows everything Will has, palming his own erection through his trousers until he spills inside the expensive fabric. 

“Fucking hell,” says Will shakily as Hannibal stands up. Hannibal kisses his cheek.

“Let’s go and find that clearing for Jack.”

Will is practically humming with electricity. His newly awakened sexual appetite, courtesy of one Dr. Lecter, makes it hard to focus as they scan the heavily wooded area. Out from the brambles and bushes lies a stone path, which leads Will to a small meadow. In a quiet patch of clover, he finds a faery ring and smiles. "I found something," he murmurs into the radio. 

"I thought supernatural beings were your enemy," Hannibal quips, his arms folded as he watches Jack and Will set the scene. 

"Fae folk are mischievous, but they don't hunt humans," Will explains. "A ring of mushrooms this size suggests the area has been a hub of spiritual activity for quite awhile."

Will should feel more nervous than he does disrobing in front of Hannibal, who is by all intents and purposes a stranger. (He supposes that is one of the side effects of having had his cock swallowed halfway down his airway just moments ago). Jack does his normal thing, rolling his eyes a bit before turning around. Hannibal, however; Will can feel Doctor's gaze sliding over every inch of exposed skin as his clothes melt away. 

Will has always been self conscious about his tattoos. Needless to say, he didn't get them for looks. Allocated mostly to his thighs and lower back, they are made up of ancient Sumarian text that even the oldest, wisest paranormal experts can no longer translate. It doesn't matter what they mean- so long as they are effective and by Odin's grace they have been. They look more like sheet music, scrolling down his back and coming to a "V" just where his ass starts, and coiling around his thighs. Two dermal piercings rest on the divot just above his back dimples (okay, those were for looks). 

Hannibal is clearly enraptured as Will douses his skin with fragrant oils and a dash of holy water, and slides a K-Bar into the folds of simple white sash he ties around his waist. The finishing touch is a braided wreath of wildflowers before Will slides down to a prone position in the circle of mushrooms. 

During this time Jack has cracked open an ancient, leatherbound book and has begun to chant. He holds a blade out, flashing it this way and that in the air before finally Will gives him a solemn nod and holds up his wrist. 

The blade slices cleanly, scattering specks of Will's blood through the air. A microscopic dot lands on Hannibal's cheek. Hannibal collects it onto his fingertip and laps it up, trying his best not to seem like the half-starved dog he is. And by all that is unholy, that little speck of blood dilates his pupils until they are blown wide and black. It is by far the purest, most potent thing Hannibal has ever tasted. Angel's tears could not come close. 

Before he can completely recover, Jack is standing beside him. He places one hand on his shoulder, ushering him into the thicket. "Now we wait," he says. 

They don't have to wait long. Just as the dying sun kisses the tops of the trees, a horrid stench stifles the air around them. Jack readies his rifle as the outline of a scraggly looking, ape-like creature meanders into the field. It is indeed a sasquatch, young and stupid and looking for an easy meal. Hannibal imagines that if he had a conscience he'd feel pity for the creature. He would never be so asinine as to fall for such a blatant trap. (Of course, that isn't to say he wouldn't show, because he definitely would. But he would be sure to make off with the delicacy, especially if said delicacy was Will.)

It approaches Will, who is play-acting the perfect virgin sacrifice, acting as if his hands are tied, wriggling and groaning on the ground--a superb performance, really. 

The creature opens its jaws--breathing out a gust of death and decay as it descends upon its prey. 

In a move that is quicker than a cobra's strike, Will flips forward onto his feet, burying his blade deep in the monster's mouth. It lets out a blood-curdling howl and claws at the nimble hunter as he swings around behind it, mounting it like a rider would a bucking bull, dodging the bear-like claws that swing backwards at him. _Ares_ _personificati._ At this point, Hannibal has forgotten how to breathe. 

Jack's eye is leveled to his scope, finger poised on the trigger. 

"Jack!" Will cries. 

A shot rings out. Then another as a plume of bright red plumes from its chest. The creature gives up one last gurgling gasp before hitting the ground. Will goes with it, sliding off its mud-caked fur to make a perfect landing. He gives Hannibal a tired, sheepish grin. 

Hannibal is much better at choosing hotels. Jack complains the entire way because the reservation has eaten into their meal budget, but Will brings up the fact that that he and Hannibal sharing a higher rated room is essentially the same price as booking two in the seedy places they usually stay. (Of course this means the dinners are more costly, too, a fact that Will smartly does not bring up). 

He knocks on the door before entering, and Hannibal laughs softly when he opens it. "You do not have to knock, you know," he says softly. "This is your room, too."

Will dips his head to hide his growing blush. He feels stupid and giddy, unable to hide his excitement as to what romantic endeavours tonight might bring. "Oh!," he says suddenly, presenting a small bundle of wildflowers from behind his back. "These are for you." He shrugs, adding "they were growing in the parking lot." 

Hannibal absolutely doesn’t cry. Not even a bit. Well, on the outside his eyes might moisten a little, but other than that his appearance doesn’t change. On the inside he has melted into a little crumpled heap - when you’re an ancient flesh and soul eating monster, who has to keep people at arms length so as not to be discovered, receiving flowers doesn’t happen very often. He takes the bunch tenderly and stares at them for a long time, long enough that Will cocks his head to the side to ask what is going on. 

“They’re perfect,” he says, not caring about how rough his voice sounds. They share a kiss so perfect and pure that a Demi-god of love is accidentally created; it doesn’t feature in this story but survives for two weeks before twinkling out of existence, and triples the birth rate in town the next year. Hannibal goes over to the phone and dials Jack’s room; they share a short conversation which Will listens to warily before Hannibal turns around, looking pleased.

“I have told Jack that we are tired and will just get room service; he seemed rather pleased.”

They order enough for four people; Hannibal polishes off a bottle of pink fizz, which Will declines, but he does break from tradition and indulge in desert. The conversation consists mostly of Hannibal waxing lyrical about how fantastic Will was during the ritual, being conscious not to use any magical terms which might give him away, while Will blushes furiously into his carbonara. He isn’t used to praise, but Hannibal has gotten far too used to giving it to him. They talk about Hannibal’s childhood, well, the parts that he can share at the moment, and Will listens aghast to the story of how his family died, from which Hannibal has removed the burning pitchforks. Will opens up too, sharing what it was like as a child being essentially produced to live and die fighting demons; Hannibal observes that just because his parents thought a worthy life was one without earthly pleasures doesn’t mean that Will has to continue in the same vein. Will looks around himself, and has to agree.

“So,” says Will, halfway through his chocolate cake and preparing to be brave. “Earlier on…...do you do that sort of thing often?”

“Summon a sasquatch? No, never.” Says Hannibal, lightly drunk and definitely minxy. Will rolls his eyes and flicks a bit of cream at him.

“No, never,” says Hannibal. Actually that’s a lie, because spontaneous and public sex is something of a kink of his, but Will doesn’t need to know that. “You inspire me to extremes, Will.”

Will blushes, again. It seems to happen a lot - perhaps it would be more accurate to report the times when his blush actually fades.

“It was incredible,” he says, slightly awkwardly. Dirty talk will need some work, thinks Hannibal.

“And the ritual still worked,” Hannibal notes. “The powers that be still consider you  _ virgo intacto _ , as it were. It seems that oral sex is a freebie.”

Will laughs at Hannibal’s use of the word freebie. “I’m fine with that,” he says. “Do you think it will work if I do it to you?”

“While I would be willing to gamble on it, I think we should do some research before we test the theory. However it does seem like me doing things to you isn’t detrimental.”

Will puts down his plate. He is staring rather intently at Hannibal’s mouth. “And you like doing things to me,” he says faintly, crawling forward. Hannibal puts his glass on the table and opens his arms to welcome Will into them, surprising the man by then picking him up and depositing them both on the bed.

“You’re strong,” Will gasps, running his hands over Hannibal’s biceps.

“You’ve no idea,” Hannibal replies, kissing him deeply. He shuffles them backwards until he is leaning against the headboard with Will in his lap. “I came so hard earlier, just from pleasuring you.” Will moans softly at the words, letting his hands roam over Hannibal’s body before shyly unbuttoning his shirt. Will is much more confident today, pressing small kisses against Hannibal’s neck and sucking gently just under his jawline. It would leave a mark, and Hannibal is sure that Will knows that. Marking territory already. How thrilling.

Will runs his hands over Hannibal’s bare chest, and giggles a little. “I didn’t expect it to be hairy,” he says, ghosting his tongue over a nipple. Hannibal’s brain short wires.

“Is that ok?” He asks, and then cringes at how insecure it sounds.

“More than,” comes the response. Will takes his own T-shirt off then, once again displaying that wonderful pale skin, raised here and there by the talismans underneath. Hannibal runs his nails up and down Will’s ribcage, making him gasp and grind his cock against Hannibal’s leg. Hannibal is painfully hard himself; he makes a show of unbuttoning his trousers and sliding them down, watching Will’s eyes grow wider and his breath speed up.

“Holy shit,” says Will.

“Quite.”

Hannibal reaches forward and undoes Will’s slacks; Will leans back so he can pull them off, his lovely thick cock bouncing against his stomach.

“Do you trust me?” He asks. Will says yes, and sounds so earnest that Hannibal knows he really really means it. Hannibal pulls him into his lap again, and places his middle finger against Will’s lips.

“Open up for me,” he says, and Will does, taking his finger willingly into his velvety mouth. He lets Will suck it for a few seconds, before lowering it between Will’s legs. Will tenses up the first time the finger touches his hole.

“Erm,” he begins, but Hannibal shushes him and kisses away all protest. He begins to push inside, feeling the muscle give way to him. Will’s body is tight and hot; his cock jerks at the thought of what it will feel like when he can have Will properly. Will is breathing fast, holding on to Hannibal for dear life.

“How does it feel?”

“Good, it’s nice, it’s OH FUCK,” Will cries when Hannibal finds his prostate. Hannibal tries to kiss him but Will can’t, moaning open mouthed against Hannibal’s shoulder as he moves his finger inside him. 

“Would you like some more?” Hannibal.

“Yespleasegodsfuckfuckfuckfuck,” says Will. Hannibal strokes his cock just once and gathers some pre-come on his fingers, using this to slick up his other index finger which he then pushes into Will, who throws his head back and cries out loudly. He is moving now, riding Hannibal’s hand so all Hannibal has to do is sit there and watch him. He takes one of Will’s hands and gently wraps it around his cock, guiding his movements until Will gets the hang of it.

The feeling of Hannibal’s cock in his palm staves off Will’s orgasm for a moment; he can’t get enough of how it feels and how it looks sliding through his fist. He looks up at Hannibal and realises he looks absolutely wrecked; they both start to speed up and suddenly it’s hot and loud and desperate - Will comes first, untouched half collapsing on Hannibal as he feels the enormous cock spasm in his hand and hearing his own name being shouted. 

They fall asleep like that, and wake up stuck together and laughing, until Jack knocks on the door to tell them that there has been another murder in town, and that yesterday’s monster was not the monster at all.

“Oh well,” says Will. “Maybe you’ll get to suck me off in the woods again.”

Hannibal chuckles. 

  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. Ten of Swords

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will and Hannibal face the consequences of thier fun little romps. Caution is tossed to the wind, and Will recieves terribly unsettling news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alana appears in this chapter, but please don't get too attached.

For the first time since he can remember, Will misses his alarm. He yawns lazily as he rolls into the crook of Hannibal's arm to rest his chin on Hannibal's chest. "Morning," he purrs. 

Hannibal smiles gently, rubbing their noses together before giving him a long, indulgent kiss. "Good morning, sweet Will." 

Will allows himself a few blissful moments of simply staring into his haunting, mercurial eyes as a delicate melody floats through the air. "What is that playing?"

"Chopin," Hannibal says while pressing a kiss to the top of his head. "It's his aptly named Spring Waltz." 

"It's pretty," Will murmurs. 

Hannibal gives him an unreadable look. "The gears are turning," he chides. "What is truly on your mind?"

"Mmm, just wondering how long you've been awake."

Hannibal shrugs. "No longer than usual."

"And, have you been…" Will draws curious circles in the fine dusting of hair on the Doctor's chest. "...staring at me the entire time?"

Hannibal mirrors his mischievous grin. "Would it be wrong of me to say yes?"

Will shakes his head sheepishly, his hair a cascade of messy brown curls. "No. But did my watch alarm go off? Its half past 6." 

"Heaven forbid," Hannibal teases. "To answer your question, it went off once. And then I stopped it."

"Why?"

Hannibal cannot help but chuckle a bit at Will's inquisitiveness. He strokes back a stray lock of hair, letting more light pour into the baby blue pools of his eyes as he begins a line of open-mouthed kisses along his jawline. "You wonderful thing. Has no-one ever told you how precious you are? I simply stopped it because I wasn't ready for it to end. Out there is a cruel, callous world, Will, one that doesn't deserve you, I might add."

"And in here?," Will moans, tilting his head back to allow more access. 

"In here it's just us," he answers, deepening the kisses, setting teeth down on his pale, untouched flesh every so often and revelling in every little gasp and sigh it produces. 

"Us," Will echoes. "I think I like the sound of that."

It is right then that Jack Crawford sees fit to pound on their door. Will is so startled that he leaps off the bed, tangling his lower half in the sheets. He ends up jackknifed, his upper half drooping down to the floor as Hannibal lets Jack in. Will manages to struggle to his feet before the door fully opens. 

"Good morning, Jack." Hannibal says dryly. 

Jack wastes no time with pleasantries. He pushes past Hannibal, leveling his eyes at the flustered Will. "We've got another one," he says, exasperated. "Well, two actually. The killings happened closer to town this time. The victims were discovered in a shed by the property owner late last night. And I didn't get a goddamn bit of sleep last night because of some fucking queens were banging away at all hours of the night."

Hannibal and Will share a look as Jack murmurs something about the "useless staff" who did nothing about his noise complaints.

After stopping by the front desk to add another night to their stay, (in which Will tries desperately not to make eye contact with the desk manager who is openly glowering at him), they spend the better part of the day surveying the scene. 

Gone are the juvenile antics of yesterday's ritual scene; there is a sadness that hangs in the air like a wet rag. While Will was successful in killing  _ a  _ monster, it becomes clear it wasn't  _ the  _ monster that has been ravaging the town. Towards the end of the day, Jack packs up his evidence and calls in the cleaners before the local paper can be notified, just as he does for the monsters they dispatch. 

He turns to Will as the unmarked black truck rolls away. "He's getting bolder."

Will nods, unable to bring himself to meet Jack's gaze. He knows Jack is disappointed. And Frankly, Will feels that disappointment clear through to his bones. 

"We'll try again tonight," Jack announces after a pause. 

After a somber meal at the local greasy spoon, they venture back to the woods. This time they take a risk and set up their ritual site just on the outskirts of town. Will's mind is reeling with the possibilities. It could be a family of sasquatch- it could be a different predatory being altogether. There is still the vaguest possibility, however small, that it may indeed be a human disguising themselves at night...in authentic sasquatch fur….donning matching sasquatch teeth...yeah, Will scratches that one off the list. 

Hannibal is as attentive as ever, even going so far as to offer to help Will prepare as Jack mechanically repeats the ancient words. Will decides this may be a good idea; with another person's scent on him, it would make the concept of an unwilling sacrifice more authentic. Will tries hard to keep his head in the game as those expert fingers slicked with honey-oil glide over every bump and curve of Will's chest. His breath hitches when Hannibal's palms caress his nipples. It's as if he has become a violin, and Hannibal is the virtuoso. He has to bite his lip to keep from getting hard, focusing instead on the pain. 

From the corner of his vision, he could swear catches a smirk pulling at the edge of Hannibal's lips. 

He takes his position on the ground just as the sun sets, trying his best to ignore the random pebble digging into his back, while Jack and the Doctor head off into the northwest direction of the woods. 

And they wait. 

And wait. 

After a few hours tick by, Will glances at his watch. It's not totally unheard of for an unearthly entity to be late to dinner, but it becomes less of a possibility when someone's deliberately ringing the damn bell. 

Deep in the trees, Hannibal's brow furrows. "Does this happen often?," he asks, his voice barely above a whisper. 

Jack scowls. "Not on my watch."

Without another word he snatches his rifle and marches out across the field. Will jerks upright, his fiery eyes glittering in the moonlight. 

"Jack! What are you doing?!" He rasps. He tries to shake the larger man off as Jacks wraps a gloved hand around his arm and yanks. 

"Get up," Jack orders at normal volume.

"Jack--!" 

"GET UP!" Jack's tone goes from angry to Defcon 5 in a flash. It takes every ounce of Hannibal's self control not to shift right then and there when Jack sends a paw across Will's face. "He's not coming, goddamn it! You know it and I know it. What the fuck did you do? What did you forget?"

"Me?," Will fires back, rising to his feet to jam himself back into his clothes. "How do we know it wasn't the cantation that was off? You do tend to pronounce your "Ers" as "Ars"--"

"My Ers were perfect! Did you use the holy water?"

"Yes!"

"That expensive ass lavender oil you make me get?"

"Expensive?!", Will snorts. "It's from Bed Bath and Beyond, you cheapskate!" 

Jack isn't the least bit fazed at the insult. He flicks the safety on his weapon and throws it across his shoulders to scowl into the distance. "You know what this means." 

"Of course I do," Will growls, pulling on his muck boots. "If you recall it is *I* who recommended her to you. She'll be able to set us straight."

"Just put your damn shirt on."

Will snarls and does as he is told. 

The car ride is silent for the most part. Will stares aimlessly out the window at the blackness, and Hannibal rests his hand near Will's. For the briefest of moments, their pinkies intertwine. 

Will's shoulders relax a little. Hannibal smiles. 

They drive up to a quaint yellow house in the suburbs. It is perfectly normal looking, except for the copious amounts of live plants bursting from the porch and the black and pink sign that hangs above the doorway that says "Madame Bloom: Spiritualist". 

Even before Hannibal graces the doorway, he is hit with the electrical crackle of spiritual energy. This place is a proverbial Grand Central Station of activity. How much of that is sensed by the actual humans on the premise, he is unsure. 

Whomever "Madame" is, she is apparently not bothered by visits at all hours of the night. Like something out of a sitcom, she answers the door in a light pink chiffon robe, a high ponytail too tidy to have seen a pillow, and a full face of makeup. Her eyes light up immediately when they fall on Will. She takes his hand, pulling him in for a quick kiss on the cheek, and for the second time this evening, Hannibal is fighting back the urge to bury his canines into someone. 

Alana appears somewhat put off by Hannibal's presence. She places herself directly across from him at the kitchen table while she and Jack and Will try to decipher what exactly went wrong. They pour over Jack's book and recount the last few days' events. Finally, it is determined that the ritual wasn't compromised and that some outside force must have somehow suppressed the sacrifice's effectiveness. Will gets up to refill his canteen before they hit the road again, and that's when Alana spots something on his collar. 

Or rather, above it. 

"Will," she murmurs, peeling back the layer of flannel to reveal a mouth-sharped purple welt. A sly grin crosses her face. "What have you been up to ?" 

“Nothing,” says Will, managing to sound like an eight year old boy. 

“He can’t have been up to anything, he stayed with Dr….”

Everyone else in the room watches as Jack’s brain makes the inevitable connection. Hannibal has the good grace to look sheepish, and then suddenly the air is awash with noise.

“IT WAS YOU!!” Jack screams, although it isn’t clear which of them he is shouting at.

“YOU FUCKING ARSEHOLES.” He rubs a hand over his face and appears to be wondering whether to throw up.

Alana fixes Hannibal with an amused look. "Doctor Lecter, was it?" Hannibal nods. "Doctor, are you aware of Will's…" She licks her lips as she searches for a term "...delicate situation?"

Oh this is going to be fun. Hannibal slides his unassuming gaze over to Will, whose face is the same color and clarity of a ripe tomato. He could be merciful to the poor boy and confirm Alana's insinuations….or…."Not as it pertains to my relationship with him, no."

Will looks to be in the middle of having a stroke. 

Alana clears her throat, setting her coffee cup down to fold her hands and lean in across the table. "Will's particular position as a paranormal investigator is greatly benefited by his purity."

"Purity?" Hannibal cocks his head as Will makes a rapid-fire slicing motion across his throat when Alana isn't looking.

Alana nods. "Yes. You see, Dr. Lecter, Will is a virgin." She glances uncertainly at Will. "Or at least, was."

"I can assure you, Ms. Bloom, Will is still very much a virgin. Last night we were simply exercising our deep romantic interest in one another."

"In that case, it may not be too late to reverse or at least damper the effect your "exercises" had on Will's spirit. I will need to draw a bath of holy water. And doctor, I will need you to explain exactly what was done and what acts Will performed on you."

"Excuse me, I need to go vomit", Jack grumbles, pushing in his chair to quickly exit. 

Within moments, and despite his vehement protests, Will and Hannibal are ushered in the bathroom. While the water runs, Alana disrobes Will down to his skivvies. She stops at the purple mark on Will's neck and addresses Hannibal. "How long have you and Will been engaging in sexual activity?"

Will whines. 

“A little under 72 hours,” Hannibal replies clinically. “The first night we simply kissed. Then the next day I performed fellatio; when the summoning ritual worked we became bolder and experimented with digital penetration and mutual masturbation. We appear to have crossed a line last night.”

“Kill me,” says Will. Alana is unperturbed.

“Thank you for your honesty,” Alana says. “It will be the digital penetration which is the problem. Luckily for Will here I can perform a ritual which will undo what has been done, given that you didn’t penetrate him with your penis.”

Will picks up a towel and screams into it.

“Excellent. Will there be an issue if we continue to have oral sex?” Hannibal asks. 

Alana hums thoughtfully and absentmindedly douses Will with various fragrant oils. "Well I don't suppose that would be an issue in the future, seeing as it wasn't an issue in the first ritual." 

She runs long fingers down the scroll-like markings on Will's back, stopping every so often to press wet leaves onto his skin. It would be erotic if not for the methodical way she goes about it, her face expressionless. "And Will, have you performed fellatio on Doctor Lecter?"

Will bites his bottom lip, drawing his eyes up to the ceiling and sing-songing "I'm not going to answer that," like a spoiled schoolkid.

"Will, we are all friends here," Alana presses. "And besides, it is necessary and you know that as well as I do. You are here for re-sanctification, Will, and we may as well do a thorough job of it. I would feel responsible if the next ritual fails and Jack sees fit to punish you for it."

After a long sigh, Will mutters,"No. I haven't….done  _ that _ ...to Dr. Lecter."

"Would you like to?"

"Alana!" 

"Will, I understand this is embarrassing for you. Please answer the question."

Will's gaze drops instinctively to the heavy bulge in Hannibal's trousers. He isn't sure what constitutes as "big", but even compared to his own, Hannibal seems positively...monstrous. He hides in his hair, bending one knee to hide his excitement as his cock twitches. "...yes," he admits shyly.

Alana's expression is one of pure empathy, devoid of any judgement. She thinks for a moment, then holds out her hands to help Will step into the bath. "I have an idea. Something that may help to alleviate some of the spiritual symptoms of sexual awakening. Dr. Hannibal, would you be at all opposed to hand-fasting with Will?"

“Not at all,” Hannibal replies quickly. It’s entirely honest, he’d like nothing better, but he forgets himself.

“Do you even know what that fucking means?” Jack asks from the doorway. He’s back, and looks about as unhappy as it’s possible for a person to look.

“No,” says Hannibal after a short pause. “I imagine it’s a sort of marriage.”

“More or less,” Alana supplies quickly. “A hand fasting is a ritual that binds two souls together. It’s a promise that lasts a year and a day - you have to redo it if you wish to remain bound - but it ensures that any interaction between the two people bound is….pure.”

“So I could have anal sex with Will and it wouldn’t be a problem?” Hannibal asks.

“YOU ARE FIRED,” Jack screams. “YOU ARE MORE THAN FIRED, YOU ARE CANCELLED. I AM NOT PAYING YOU, ACTUALLY I WILL FINE YOU, REPEATEDLY, FOR WHAT YOU HAVE DONE.”

“I think that’s called discrimination,” Hannibal says calmly. Internally he’s begging for Jack to really start - it’s been at least ten days since he’s ripped a pair of human arms clean out of their sockets. He has another problem, however. A handfasting is still a ritual, and if there is a ritual, he won’t be able to hide his Wendigo-ness. It’ll be there for all to see, antlers and all. 

“Madame Bloom,” he says. “If we are to be bound, Will and I need to know each other for more than three days. Could we continue with the purification for now, and come back to you once we are sure? I promise to behave in the meantime.”

"You are always welcome anytime. And I certainly wouldn't suggest rushing things if it wasn't such an urgent matter. If I may be perfectly frank, Doctor, I worry that any momentary lapse in judgement might complicate matters. That being said, I want to assure you that the handfasting rite is safe, easy and highly effective, regardless of race, gender or species."

That last word makes Hannibal's ears prick up. Something in her eyes goes clean through him, as if she has found something ancient and powerful but is not totally aware of its origin. Whatever her conjecture, the moment passes in a flash. She returns to helping Will into the bath. He sinks down with a sigh, sliding his eyes shut. She places a fresh bandage on the knife wound and follows Hannibal and Jack out of the room. 

Once the door is shut, she folds her arms over her chest, her face taking on the visage of a wary older sister. "Will has been hunting for years, Doctor. He is the most successful agent I have ever known and I cannot help but think that part of that is due to his diligence in remaining pure. That being said, he is my friend and I would do anything in my power to see that he is happy. His parents were amazing at what they did, but they were strict. Obviously their tactics were very questionable from the start, using their own son as a way to lure entities out of hiding. This is the only thing Will has ever known. While hand-fasting may be enough to purify a sexual awakening, I'd be hesitant to push it too far. Abstaining from genital contact would be the best course of action regardless. Of course, seeing as I have known Will since we were children I am certain you will understand if I ask of your intentions towards Will?" 

“My intentions?” Hannibal states. “I don’t have any intentions. I have loved Will since the moment I first saw him. I think he is the most wondrous creature ever to have walked the earth, and I intend to dedicate the rest of my existence to making him happy, whether he will have me or not. The best thing would be to ask Will what his intentions are, because I think no one ever has.”

Alana looks taken aback by this, but in the best possible way. She smiles gently. "I think I can see why Will is so fond of you." 

In the bath, Will can hear murmurs of the conversation going on outside. He can't really make out anything that's being said, except when Jack speaks because it's more like yelling. 

A ball of guilt weighs him down like an anchor. How could he be so selfish as to compromise the case? He might not always have to be pure to hunt---Ostara knows his parents weren't---but he could have at least waited until the entity---whatever it is---was caught. Then he could have had a discussion with Jack and ….

"That's not what's going to happen here, you understand?" Jack's voice practically rattles the door on its hinges. "Will is the best chance we've got at catching this thing. And I need him at his best. Hand-fasting my ass! Will will be staying in  _ my room  _ for the duration of this little project. And as soon as we are back in Wolf Trap I'm calling my damn locksmith and strapping a chastity belt to both your asses!"

Well there goes that option. Will heaves a ragged sigh and slides down further into the water. 

The ride back to the hotel is quiet. Will has been banished to the back seat by himself. With Dr. Lecter riding up front, Will can't look forward to his comforting little touches. His lips feel dry and hungry. He misses him already, and they are still in the same car. 

Will packs up his things while Jack waits in the doorway, his arms folded across his chest, scowling. 

He gives Hannibal a sad, puppy-dog look over his shoulder and Jack clears his throat. It's no use. 

It is clear that Hannibal does not agree with Jack's tactics. If Will truly wanted to, he could disobey. Hell, he could order himself and the doctor a cab ride home right then and there and Jack wouldn't be able to do anything to stop him. 

But there are people who need him. And they matter more than Will's personal happiness, even though his heart yearns for the freedom to do both. They will find a way out of this yet. He just needs to be patient. 

"The hell're you doing?," Jack sneers as Will drops to the floor on his hands and toes. 

"My nighttime regimen," Will answers as he begins his repetitions. 

Jack rolls his eyes. 

Hannibal wouldn't be rolling his eyes right now, Will thinks to himself. Hannibal would be watching his every motion and commenting on how strong and fearless he is. He pouts. 

******

Hannibal takes the fire exit to leave the hotel. He picks a car in the far corner of the parking lot and breaks in, expertly hot wiring it. He normally considers theft to be rude, but as he’ll be bringing the car back he doesn’t see the problem. 

On the drive he muses about what to do about Jack. The man is a tit, and probably could do with being murdered. The hows and whens just need to be decided, then. Best to leave it a while, let it sit. 

The little yellow house looks smaller in the dark, more 2D, as if it’s been drawn by someone who has heard of perspective but doesn’t really know what it is. There is a light on downstairs, and he can see the outline of the lady of the house, going through some papers at a table.

The door is unlocked.

“Hello Dr Lecter,” Alana calls. “I’m in the sitting room if you’d like to join me.”

“It seems as if you were expecting me,” he supplies upon entering the room.

“Yes,” she smiles kindly. “You’re taking a big risk working for the FBI. If they discover you they’ll kill you you know.”

“And are you going to tell them?”

“No. You’re clearly good for Will. And it’s not as though you’re something awful like a Banshee or a Wendigo is it?”

Oh my sweet summer child. 

He stands up and takes off his coat, watching her face intently. The first moment of fear is the best, because they are so often unique. After that, screaming is just screaming. He could probably convince himself that terror improves the flavour, but the fact is that he just likes it. Her brow pinches just a little, then her eyes blow wide, and then there is screaming, and then silence.

******

The following night they try again, and the ritual works. The beast is a giant smelly Skunk Ape, which Will and Jack dispatch much in the same fashion as before. They call the cleaners and head back to the hotel, and everything returns to business as usual. 

Except. 

Hannibal opens his hotel door to the sounds of timid knocking to find a barely clothed Will on the other side. He opens his mouth to ask him what the matter is, but Will backs him against the wall, swinging the door shut with his foot and pressing a starved kiss to his mouth, his soft, wet tongue lapping inside. 

"Will--" he tries, but the brunette hushes him with a finger to his lips, continuing his exploration down Hannibal's throat, to his clavicle, where he undoes the buttons to slip his free hand inside. If Hannibal was a cursing kind of man, this is where he would murmur a long line of "fuck's" and "Jesus Christ and all the Saints" and "Hell yesses". 

"I can't stop thinking about you," Will admits, angling Hannibal backwards towards the bed. "Jack is asleep. He doesn't know I've left. We've caught the culprit this time and he's been put down for good." 

"Will, you don't know that---" 

Hannibal's protest is muffled by an eager, young tongue steadily making its way down his throat. He allows himself to be pushed down onto the overstuffed mattress and Will climbs on top, his muscular thighs enveloping Hannibal's waist. "I don't care," Will murmurs, capturing Hannibal's cock inside his pants and giving him a sharp, needy tug. "I want you." He kisses him feverishly. "I want  _ this.  _ I want us." 

Hannibal's hands go up into Will's hair, softly tugging on the feathery strands as Will rides him, grinding their lengths together between their stomachs. Will's head rocks back, and Hannibal explores Will's chest, tracing the intricate symbols and breathing in the scent of Will's arousal and the blood pumping feverishly through his veins. His teeth begin to itch, just above the gum line, and he can feel his nails growing into fine points. His horns begin prodding the inside of his skull, straining to break free. 

_ What a perfect, willing sacrifice,  _ his inner beast says.

_ Take him. FEED.  _

"I don't care if I ever hunt again. So long as I'm with you," Will moans, too lost in ecstasy to take notice of the subtle changes. Will levels his lips to Hannibal's,murmurs against them, " Fuck me."

Hannibal doesn’t need to be told twice. He manages to resist his body’s urge to change - thank the gods he’d eaten that soothsayer woman yesterday or else there would have been no hope. He rolls over on top of Will, pinning his hands to the mattress and rolling his hips against Will’s, giving him a feel of what it will be like. 

“Stay here,” he says with a final kiss, going into the bathroom to retrieve some lube from his toiletry bag. He dithers over whether to give Will the option of using a condom but allows his wicked side to win; if he’s going to take Will then he wants to feel all of him. 

Will is already naked on the bed when he gets back, lazily stroking his cock with one arm behind his head. He smiles slowly at Hannibal before beckoning him closer. Hannibal does a rather inelegant job of getting rid of his clothes; he lies down on top of Will and the feeling of their skin touching is electric, making them both shiver and moan. Hannibal’s hands are everywhere, running through Will’s hair, down the sensitive column of his ribs, over his firm buttcheeks, squeezing and then pulling them apart gently. His fingers ghost over his hole and Will twitches and groans again. 

“Wait,” he whispers. “There’s something I’ve been wanting to do.”

He pushes Hannibal onto his back, and the next thing he knows he can feel Will’s breath over his cock. Will is tentative to start with, pressing almost chaste kisses to the underside before gently lapping at the head, humming his appreciation at the taste. Hannibal almost comes right there, and he has to breathe deeply and think of Jack just to keep him composure. He threads his fingers into Will’s hair to guide him as Will takes his cock into his beautifully warm mouth, wrapping a hand around the base to steady it. He sucks gently, not sure of what to do.

“That’s it, a little more,” says Hannibal hoarsely. Will’s eyes flutter closed and he takes it down further.

“Use your tongue a bit on the way up,” Says Hannibal; Will does as he’s told and all Hannibal can do is hold on, crying ‘perfect, Will, gods, oh oh oh’ until he has to pull Will up or else it’ll all be over. 

Will is breathless and so impossibly turned on; he doesn’t think he’s been this hard in his life, ever. Hannibal lays him on his front and puts a pillow under his hips; he pulls his cheeks apart and blows on his hole gently, making Will gasp. He kisses the ring of muscle once, drawing a cry of ‘fuck’ from Will, before making love to it with his tongue, gently probing strokes that become deeper and deeper until Will is begging him to fuck him already. 

Hannibal covers his fingers in lube and places his other hand on the small of Will’s back; he knows Will is fine with one finger and doesn’t waste any time, quickly adding a second and scissoring them to open Will up. He deliberately avoids his prostate, making him writhed and moan and beg. 

“Are you ready for me, do you think?” He whispers in Will’s ear.

“Yes fuck sake hurry up,” Will practically screams back at him.

“Charming.”

He puts more lube on his cock and lines up, hearing his pulse hammering in his ears as he starts to push inside. Will tenses and swears; Hannibal strokes his side and murmurs encouragement, not really minding Will’s discomfort as he bottoms out. Will is hot and tight around him, his walls spasming strongly as he struggles to accommodate Hannibal’s huge cock. 

He starts a slow, rolling rhythm, enough to tease Will’s prostate but not enough for full contact. Bit at a time Will’s noises of pain turn into pleasure and he let’s himself move more, bracing himself against the bed frame as he begins to thrust hard, making Will cry out every time. He wants to make Will come first but it doesn’t work out like that, he realises that he should slow down but he can’t stop, losing his rhythm completely as he comes hard, shouting Will’s name. He goes to pull out so that he can turn Will over but Will stops him, guiding Hannibal’s hand underneath him so he can stroke him off. 

Will can barely breathe, trapped under Hannibal as the Doctor continues his rhythm, his softening mass bottoming out inside of him. Will wails into the pillow, and Hannibal gives him fingers, muffling his voice and making him taste himself and the lube and their lovemaking at the same time. "Shhh," Hannibal hushes, pumping Will's hardness with his other hand and snapping his hips forward to test Will's fortitude. Soon, Will is coming undone, his head thrown back, fingers and toes knotting into the bedsheets as he spills out onto the mattress. "Good boy," Hannibal praises. "Shhh, precious thing. Such a good boy for me." While Will lays there, panting and motionless, it is Hannibal's turn to taste. He levels his hand to his gaze, opening his fingers and examining the way the glossy strands of come drip and flow across them. He sucks each digit clean like a bear to honey, moaning at the sweet-bitter undertones. 

Will spots what he is doing and hides his face in his elbow. "Isn't that a bit gross?"

Hannibal laughs gently, running his free hand over the soft mound of Will's ass. "Nothing about you could ever be anything less than wondrous to me."

Will scoffs disbelievingly but Hannibal lets it slide. Moments later, Will has his first lesson in learning the art of holding in your lover's juices whilst tip-toeing to the bathroom. They take a long, luxurious shower afterwards, kissing copiously, running their hands along each other's bodies as any shame or fear Will had washes away with the soapy suds. 

"Jack is going to be furious" is the first thing Will says when their newly-washed heads hit the pillow. He smiles mischievously. 

“I may locate the nearest defibrillator before we tell him,” says Hannibal, not entirely joking. He pulls Will to him, bringing one of his beautiful hands to his mouth so he can kiss each finger, his palm, each finely boned knuckle.

“It hurts when I’m not touching you,” he says, looking deep into Will’s eyes.

Will swallows hard. "Would it be possible to never leave the bed? I mean, when we get back? I will move inti your bed and never leave. I hate the way the world is. I hate having to kill other creatures in order to survive." His eyes fill with tears for a moment, and Hannibal kisses every single one away. "I'm not a monster," Will chokes. "I promise."

“I can’t promise the same,” Hannibal says, kissing Will’s temple. He moves down and starts pressing butterfly kisses against his collarbone. “I am going to dedicate myself to showing you every luxury you’ve been denied, Will. If it pleases you I will create a room which is all bed, and we needn’t leave it at all.” Will’s skin becomes more sensitive under the attention it’s receiving. 

“Have you thought about how you want to tell Jack,” he asks in between 

"You've never been anything but loving towards me, so I doubt there is anything you could say or do that would change how I feel. I am in love with you, Hannibal. You do know that, right?" After a quiet moment he adds, "As for telling Jack, can I confess that my first instinct is just to run away with you tonight? But I know that wouldn't be fair to JackAand it would be a cowardly thing to do. That being said, I don't think that there is any point in waiting any longer than we have to. I will go and tell Jack 1st thing tomorrow morning. I don't expect you to be there. After all, it was I that got you fired."

“I had hoped,” Hannibal murmurs, travelling still lower to curl his tongue around a nipple. “I would be more than happy to cater to your desire to run away in the dead of night, if I could stand to let you out of this bed. Will you come and live with me?”

Will's breath hitches as Hannibal's lips close around the hardening bud for a good suck, teeth scraping against the sensitive flesh. Immediately Will's cock is springing to life once more, precum oozing out, growing hard against Hannible's thigh. "I mean, I still have to tell Jack," Will manages through sharp little gasps. "But you were willing to go so far as to marry me for a year and a day yesterday, and we've only just met." 

“I will still marry you for a year and a day, every year and one day for the rest of our lives,” Hannibal says, palming Will’s hardening cock. Will is still slick and open from before, and he slips two fingers back inside, delighting in the moan that escapes Will when he does. Turning around to face Will’s groin, he takes just the tip of his cock into his mouth, feeling it harden fully. 

"Oh!" Will jumps at the dual sensations, wanting desperately to reciprocate, but unable to keep his focus for more than a nanosecond. He leans into Hannibal, holding onto his legs for dear life. 

Hannibal chuckles. "Eager boy." He taps Will's mouth softly, instructing him "open for me."

He pushes into Will's waiting mouth in one fluid motion, revelling in the muffled cry it produces. Will's inexperienced tongue flaps and falters against his cock, seeking purchase, and it is the single most incredible feeling Hannibal has ever experienced. 

"Swallow," he rasps, grappling once again at the threads of his shredded control as the voice inside echoes,  _ take him. Take him all. Eat him. Present yourself. Feel his fear. Feed. FEED.  _ Will does as he is instructed, sucking Hannibal down and choking on him halfway. Hannibal forces himself to pull away, but Will shakes his head, musters his courage, and tries again. This time Hannibal goes all the way down in one gulp. Brave, brave boy. He probably should have let

Will go on top for this, but it’s a bit late to worry about that now. He rides Will’s mouth whilst sucking cock and torturing his poor abused prostate with his fingers. 

Will comes first, unsurprisingly, pulling off Hannibal’s cock to gasp his release against his thigh. Hannibal swallows him down and then moves to lie back on the bed, pulling Will back down between his legs. By this point Will is addicted to sucking cock, and easily takes Hannibal right to the back of his throat, keeping his lips tight and teasing the slit with his tongue just often enough to make Hannibal’s head spin. 

It surprises Will when Hannibal comes, the thick spillage flooding his mouth, escaping down the side of his mouth. He swallows as much as he can catch, though his eyes water a bit and he is unused to the taste of another man. Hannibal offers him pretty words and soothing pets, even as he himself is still riding out the aftershocks. When Hannibal can breathe again, he gathers Will into his arms, peppering him with little bites (both to claim his territory and also in hopes that it will sate his damned inner beast, with whom he needs to have a long discussion about  _ eating Will  _ while not actually  _ eating Will. _ )

In the darkness, just as Hannibal thinks Will might have fallen asleep, comes a shy, timid voice. "So...was I...I mean, was I good?"

“No you weren’t good,” Hannibal breathes, stroking his back. “Calling you good would be like referring to the Atlantic as a pond. You are the most phenomenal person in the entire world.” Will is silent for a moment, and then says -

“Thanks, but..”

“Do you require reassurance regarding your skill as a lover? Yes Will, you were very good.” They kiss, slow and sleepy, until Will pulls away and rests his head on Hannibal’s chest, smiling in the dark. 

  
  


****

In the morning, Will stares nervously at Jack's hotel door. He adjusts his tie --he and Hannibal had gone early morning clothes shopping for the occasion-- and clears his throat before knocking. Hannibal rests a reassuring hand on his shoulder, smiling gently. 

"You don't have to be here," Will murmurs. 

"Where else in the world would I be, love, if not by your side?" 

The deep rouge returns to Will's face in a heartbeat. He really should work on that. 

The door cracks open and Jack gives them each an unreadable look before allowing them inside. 

Will begins to speak, but Jack cuts him off almost immediately, gesturing to the chair by the makeshift bandstand and telling him, in a surprisingly controlled tone, "Sit, Will. Please."

Will hesitates, but Jack's eyes are red-rimmed and slightly wide, like a man who has seen too much. There is a tinge of panic in the air, sour and sharp, and it makes Will's stomach do backflips. He sits. 

"Jack, I can expl---"

"Its about Alana," Jack says, her name cutting through the dry rasp in his throat. 

"Alana? Okay, what? Is something….Jack, is she alright?"

As the panic rises in him until it freezes in his veins like ice, Jack slowly, somberly shakes his head, at last making out the words, "I'm sorry." 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	3. The Lovers, Reversed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will discovers a horrible truth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Fair warning, there is non-con monster sex at the end of this chapter !)

Will tries his damndest to stop his hand from shaking as he lifts the yellow tape and steps onto the crime scene. The house looks untouched from the outside, no signs of forced entry. The fact that the killing happened inside gives the team the privacy to conduct a thorough investigation without the nuisance of prying eyes. 

"The neighbor found her early this morning," Jack states softly, following just a few feet behind. 

Will steps foot on the threshold, and a steady hand squeezes his shoulder. "You do not have to do this," Hannibal murmurs into his ear. 

Will swallows. He's never cried at a crime scene--not once. He hasn't stopped all morning. "It's what she would have wanted," he rasps. "It's what she deserves." 

Hannibal cannot help but admire his lover's resolve. He, too, is just a bit tense, because while he has revisited the scenes of his feeding grounds before, it's never been in this capacity. 

He wonders briefly, if Will would be able to judge just from the pool of blood, dried and blackened, or from a few bits of hair with the scalp still attached, that she died quickly.

While Hannibal enjoys inflicting terror on his prey, he is mercifully quick. It is simply easier to pull the limbs off of someone who isn't struggling. 

Will walks in and takes in the scene with long, shallow breaths. While he looks collected on the outside, there is clearly a tsunami of emotions roiling just beneath the surface. 

"I have no eyes, yet I can see. Not that I need to," Will says, holding his hand out over the pool of dried blood. "I know right where I am headed. I know her. And she knows me." As his eyes land on the shattered coffee cup in the corner of the living room, he continues. "She starts with pleasantries" --here, he smiles sadly--"She is suspecting nothing. The mood changes rapidly. A cloven hoof pokes out from my trouser leg---there is no going back now…

"I let her get out a single scream, because I like it, because I am ancient and hungry and bored. This isn't just a feeding, it's an exercise of my power. She saw me---no---suspected me, that I was something full of madness and magick."

Hannibal doesn’t bother to hide his admiration as he watches Will reconstruct the scene. Bar a couple of details he is absolutely correct about everything; Hannibal isn’t that bothered about whether they scream or not, just that they are afraid, and he certainly isn’t mad, but otherwise Will is bang on the money. He can feel Will’s distress vibrating at a high frequency in the air, a persistent hum of pain and anger.

He did a good job with Alana; there is as much blood on the ceiling and walls as there is in the floor, and very little of the body remains. Some hair - no one likes to eat hair - the odd bone fragment and piece of cartilage, which he finds rough on his stomach, but otherwise the physical remains would barely fill one evidence bag. Better than dying and going to waste, Hannibal thinks, left to rot in the ground or burned before spending eternity in an urn. 

Will approaches him, wide eyed and trembling; Hannibal has to resist the urge to embrace him and carry him away from the horror, but there’s no way Will would allow it. He’s on the hunt now. Hannibal feels a frisson of excitement at the thought; Will is hunting _him,_ and he has no idea how this is going to go. It will be interesting to see what happens. 

“We need to perform the ritual again, draw it out,” Will says, his voice trembling. Hannibal steps closer to him.

“Will it won’t work - last night…”

“Well we have to try,” Will shouts back. “I can’t just let this happen and not do anything.”

You could, thought Hannibal, but you wouldn’t be nearly so interesting if you did. 

*****

It wasn't nearly as much work convincing Jack to let Will go it alone as he'd thought it might be. Without a word spoken on the subject, Jack knew Will was no longer pure and thus would be little to no use to him. What's more, Will could be putting himself and everyone else's lives in danger by attempting a willing sacrificial ritual, something he knows next to nothing about. Will tries desperately to explain as much to Hannibal, who insists on coming with him. 

"If anything were to happen to you, I'd never forgive myself," Will presses, staring into the forest. 

"I could say the same for you." Hannibal cups Will's cheek, leaning in to give him a deep kiss before taking his hand. 

They walk silently together for hours before at last Will finds what he is looking for ---a large stone pillar carved by ancient tools with strange writings on each side. "This is perfect," Will remarks, sliding off his pack. 

"Thank you for accompanying me, Doctor. If you head back now, you should make it back to the car by sundown. To ask you to stay here with me would be certain death." 

"I am unsure of what all it is you're planning," Hannibal muses aloud. "But I do know that my place is right beside you, for the rest of our lives, however long or short that may be." 

"But you don't have a gun," Will murmurs. 

"You might be surprised at my abilities without such things." 

The truth is, Will is not certain exactly what he's doing either. He only knows that this is what Alana would want--- for him to find the culprit behind her murder and to prevent others from happening. He disrobes quickly, cracking open his leather bound journal to repeat the ancient words before laying down on the giant granite slab. 

Hannibal knows better than to stay too close to the circle. Already, his Wendigo hind-brain is sensing the glowing blue aura of magick surrounding the altar. Just before Hannibal turns to head down the hill a ways, the sudden flash of a blade catches his attention. 

Instead of drawing across the top few layers of skin, Will plunges the knife in to his arm, opening a long stripe of red that billows out and down the stone. The second cut, on his upper thigh, pierces the femoral artery. The pungent smell of blood and despair hand thick in the air as the wind picks up. Hannibal shouts for him to stop. He has never felt this feeling that now seizes him --- is this what fear tastes like?---and suddenly it is no longer a question of whether he risks revealing himself. 

Just in that spot along the grassy hilltop, the wind whips and howls as Hannibal steps into the circle. Droplets of Will's blood caught in the air splatter against his face. 

Now Hannibal may not have the ability to stop time, but one of his many skills as a hunter allow him to carve out sections of time in a surrounding area and hold it back at a nearly nonexistent speed. It becomes very useful in making split-second decisions. In the ensuing time vacuum the Wendigo, or Wendi as Hannibal affectionately thought of the creature roared into life.

_Kill it eat it kill it eat it_

"I think not," Hannibal growls. In fact his goal is quite the opposite. As certain as he is that Will would make a most delectable meal he'd rather prefers him breathing. "Now listen carefully, Wendi. I am going to let you out... _but---"_

_Fuck it kill it fuck it kill it eat it_

Hannibal pinches the space between his eyes, thinking how sad it is that he actually considers the addition of " _fuck it_ " as viable progress. 

"I agree with you on one count," Hannibal says cautiously. "But we are not---understand, _NOT,_ going to kill or eat him. In fact, we are going to save him from his own foolishness."

_Nasty master, want kill it kill it kill it eat it rip tear chew let us let us let us let us_

There was a time, perhaps 70 years ago or so, when Hannibal didn't have complete control of the demon inside him and might have been swayed by the insatiable need to hunt. 

But he was much younger then, and the Wendigo was still a powerful creature taking up space in the back corners of his mind. Hannibal had been feeding off the Wendigo, growing stronger, just as the Wendigo was feeding off of Hannibal's own existence. They match each other, now, an entropy, and Hannibal barely breaks a sweat as he closes in on the sacrifice on the altar. 

His perfect, pure, unbroken sacrifice. He touches his face, marvelling at Will's long thick eyelashes as they rest closed against his cheeks. He is losing color, and fast. For a moment Hannibal marvels at what kind of creature would be so bothered by the death of another to actually commit suicide himself. 

In an instant, it is not Hannibal's hand touching Will, but a set of massive talons, covered in thick, woolen fur. The transformation isn’t difficult anymore, long gone are the days of screaming and crunching bones, and to an observer it would be as though Hannibal had simply disappeared and been replaced by the hulking creature, with its long limbs and huge head, antlers reaching another three feet into the air.

Hannibal and the Wendigo regard Will together. The aroma of blood tickles the Wendigo’s nose.

_Sacrifice please me take eat_

No, behave yourself. This one is ours.

_Hungry_

No you aren’t, you ate two nights ago.

_Always hungry. Before hunger, nothingness. After nothingness, hunger. Wendigo called from void to hunger, must eat kill rip tear or nothingness again._

Stop being dramatic, I’ve kept you alive for three hundred years, yes? You can afford not to eat this one. I’ll get you someone tomorrow.

_…._

The Wendigo contents itself to watch, allowing Hannibal to drive its huge body. The pale figure on the altar stirs, and then slowly, weakly, opens his eyes. 

"Hello, darling" _,_ Hannibal says, knowing full well that Will cannot hear him. "Whatever have you gone and done to yourself?"

Will looks as if he is going to attempt to make a sound. Hannibal knows the look well--through the silvers of blue sail a bright flash of unequivocal terror as he is swallowed by the shadow of the Wendigo. 

_Feed! Now!_

The Wendigo would gladly continue bashing against the hold Hannibal has on it if he would but let him. Hannibal can tell easily it is the instinct of an otherworldly hunter that drives its belligerence. 

We have had this conversation, Hannibal chastises. I am not having it again. 

_Then what do?_ The great beast rasps.

You know full well what we are going to do, Hannibal says. 

The Wendigo grumbles. 

It baffles Hannibal that Wendi could be so blinded by his incessant drive to feed that he can't see the many other delectable delights a curly-haired Adonis like Will could offer. 

One huge paw grips the inside of Will's leg and pushes them open.

Careful!, Hannibal snaps. 

The monster seems to be listening for now. Will has lost so much blood that it runs down the altar and pools at the creature's cloven hoofs. The Wendigo licks his gaping chops. 

Focus, Hannibal instructs. 

The site of Will's perfect pale skin and his flaccid manhood seems to pique the Wendigo's interest. It bends it's head low, letting out a crackling groan from deep within its chest and laps a large, sputum-covered stripe down his belly. 

Will shifts, letting out a desperate mewl, and attempts weakly to back away. The Wendigo cages his front half with those deadly talons, spreading out over Will's chest and shoulders and pinning him so hard to the slab that its claws sink into the stone. 

It's tongue travels further downward, thoroughly saturating Will in a thick layer of slime as it laps up the texture and taste of his flawless skin. The tip of it's tongue lifts Will's length, and that's when the magic goes to work, rushing sexual energy through Will's veins and forcing his body to respond in spite of himself. 

Will cries out weakly, his legs parting, cock twitching as the monster draws large, clumsy circles around each testicle. 

"Be patient, sweet boy," Hannibal cooes. "It will not be long now." 

There are two predominant reasons for what is about to happen: the first being that Will has lost gallons of blood in his attempt to catch a monster that has been right in front of him the whole time. Without this last drastic act, Will would surely die. And what would be the fun in that? The second and perhaps more pressing matter is the most simple: Hannibal likes Will. In fact, over the past few days he has began to wonder if perhaps he isn't maybe deeply, hopelessly, eternally in love with the impetuous boy. 

All earthen creatures die. 

But ethereal ones…

The creature journeys lower and lower, letting out a delighted rattle until at last it reaches what Hannibal considers to be one of his absolute favorite places in the entire stratosphere. 

Will gasps, his head coming off the altar as the rough, wet digit probes his entrance. For being half-dead he sure is a squirmy thing. 

The creature presses past the tightening ring of muscle with an audible rasp, streams of slick coating all around and inside the boy's walls. 

"N-no," Will manages. 

"Patience, love," Hannibal whispers.

The monster begins to open him up more, sliding past his stubborn entrance and wiggling it's way inside until Will's belly pooches. He kicks and flails, trying desperately to fight it off. The creature rattles and bashes his hot, bumpy appendage into Will's prostate. 

Immediately ribbons of come fly from Will's half-hard cock, and Hannibal finds himself getting jealous that the creature was able bring Will off so easily. Will arches his back, his hands flying up to grip the steel-like talons, thighs quivering and spattered with blood and foam. 

With a final convulsion Wills body slumps lifelessly against the stone. His eyes roll back into his head and slide closed. 

We must hurry, Hannibal instructs. There is not much time. 

With a grunt, the creature stands to his full height, abandoning the body beneath him. Something purple/gray and glossy has begun making its way out of the matted fur between its legs. The monster gives it a firm tug. 

Its gargantuan shaft, half hard and heavy thuds out onto the ground. Wendigo's hair stands on end, every part of it electrified by primal desire. Gone is the hunger, for perhaps the first time in its existence, replaced with the insatiable drive to breed. 

He plucks the end of it up in one massive fist, lifting Will around the waist like a rag doll and depositing him onto its sputtering, glossy head. 

Without the preparation of the Wendigo's supernatural saliva, Will would surely die. Wendigo's nostrils flare as it forces Will down onto his massive cock, and Hannibal can feel everything. Will's legs go out on either side of the trunk-like member, his poor abused hole yawning unnaturally wide as the monster feeds it's member to him. When he is about halfway it deposits Will back down to the altar, using its hips as leverage as he rocks his knot into him. 

Perhaps it is for the best that Will is unconscious for this, Hannibal muses. With a final grunt, the animal thrusts its way into Will until he is fully seated on its testicles. With very little care or concern, it flips Will's unconscious form onto his stomach and begins a punishing rhythm, pulling its cock out almost completely before slamming it back inside again. 

If you wouldn’t mind moving this along, Hannibal encourages. 

It’s a necessary act to save Will and allow them to love each other for all eternity, but not one that Hannibal is particularly enjoying, and he quietly vows to himself that their future love scenes will look quite different. The Wendigo merrily obliges, jackhammering into Will’s prone body before unleashing an unearthly howl at the sky, painting Will’s insides with magical, if not vaguely disgusting, oil like semen. 

The effects on Will’s body begin to show almost immediately; when he awakes in the morning he will be immortal, although the ability to fully change form will not be realised for several days. His wounds have begun to heal, and within the hour the skin will have knitted back together. By morning there will not be so much as a scar. His skin has a faint glow about it, as if he were lit up from the inside. The magical talismans under his skin have already melted away, unable to contend with the force already flowing through him. Hannibal flickers back into view, as if he had always been there; the Wendigo is sated for now, although he has promised to feed it tomorrow. That is a problem, quite literally, for another day. He touches Will’s face with his own hands, and places a tender kiss to his sleeping lips. 

“I could not be more proud of you,” he breathes, before picking Will up and carrying him, bridal style to the car. He has a bit of fun getting Will past reception at the hotel, merrily saying “too much to drink” to the receptionist, who pauses mid gum-snap to stare at them as Hannibal hefts the unconscious ex-demon hunter through the lobby. Once he has Will tucked up in bed, scars already faded to fine lines, he sits in a chair next to the bed and contents himself to watch and wait until morning.

  
  


  
  
  
  
  
  
  


  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
